


Rembering You is...

by flamezcl



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: And Everything Nice, Can HE be my daddy?, Can Ratchet be my Dad please?, Caring!Bumblebee, Dont't hate, Execution, F/M, Friendship, Fuck Ratbat, I hate tags, I love Megatron, Iacon is purdy, M/M, Multi, Psycho, Sibling Rivalry, Smokescreen is a just a baby, Spice, Starscream will always be a loveable whiny bitch, Sugar, a lot of hate, a lot of love, blame, hardship, lol jk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 11:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14019003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamezcl/pseuds/flamezcl
Summary: A sweet little femme by the name of Flame wakes up in a dark, filthy cell with retrograde amnesia. Everyone outside that door wants to kill her, but she doesn't know why. She can't remember. Only her most loyal friends can help her convince the others that she's not guilty and stop the bloody, brewing war between the Autobots, the Decepticons, and the Rebels.





	Rembering You is...

**Author's Note:**

> I'M FINALLY FUCKING DONE TYPING THIS UP, OMIGOD. It took me about 3 days to get this from my notebook to the computer. Like I frigging can't. But, I love this story soooo much, and I hope you guys like it too! Enjoy^^

Darkness enveloped my cramped cell space, nothing but the dim lights of the filthy energon spilled on the cold ground and the lights of my dim optics. I groaned and brought a servo to my helm, which was pounding like the Pit.

 

I blinked slowly, my optics performing at half intensity for some reason, and I tried to recall all that had happened in the last 24 voors, but to no avail. I slumped against the icy cold metal of my cell and held my helm in despair.

 

Just when I was thinking nobody would come and tell me what’s going on and hopefully release me, the door outside my cell whooshed open, the sudden creaking making me jump. It revealed the frame of Smokescreen, one of the only bots I could consider my friend.

 

“You look so pathetic,” he commented.

 

Well, maybe not anymore.

 

“What in the Pit is your deal?” I bit back, dentae bared.

 

He scanned me over with judging optics, and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable with his heated gaze, “You’re such a traitor to the Autobot cause. I can’t believe I trusted you, let alone called you my friend. I defended you from our teammates every solar cycle whenever you would play tricks on them. They despised you, but I always there to pick up the pieces for you because that’s what friends do. And you know how many times I’ve done that for you? 74 times, Flame. SEVENTY FOUR! But now look what you've done. Don't ever talk to me again, and we're not friends anymore. Ever!" he yelled.

 

Coolant appeared in the corner of my optics, "Smokescreen, what are you talking about?"

 

He glared harder, "Don't pull that fragging bullslag on me because it's not gonna work. You'll just have to face judgment and pay for your crimes, and you're doing it alone."

 

With that said, he left, leaving me alone with my depressing thoughts. My tank rumbled but started churning what little energon that was left. Coolant streamed down my faceplate. I didn't understand what was happening but felt guilty anyway.

 

It was the first time in 1743 joors that I cried for my carrier and sire. As sobs racked throughout my seemingly frail frame, the door slid open once more, but I didn't care who it was. I just wanted my creators. I know bawling like a little sparkling wouldn't help a thing, but I didn't care at the time.

 

My cell door creaked open as it was swung wide, a few small, but solid steps echoed throughout the small space, and then a servo laid on my shoulder-plating. I looked up into the concerned blue optics of my best friend, who was basically like my older brother, the way he took care of me, Bee.

 

I cried out louder, no words escaped my voice box, only the dying sound of my spark crying out in anguish. Bee knelt down next to me, embracing me in his strong arms. He petted the back of my helm with his servo and started to hum an ancient Cybertronian lullaby.

 

Coolant finally stopped dripping down my faceplate, but shivers still racked my frame. I soon quieted down and listened to Bee's humming. He always knew what I needed the most at all times. Like an invisible bond that glue the two of us to each other.

 

Bee slightly shifted our position where I was sitting on his lap but he still had his arms around me, now rubbing my back struts in a soothing circular motion.

 

Even though he only spoke through beeps and whines, I could hear his voice as plain as day, "Do you feel better?"

 

I nodded my helm minutely, "Yes, thank you."

 

I could hear his optics offlining and his vents became evener.

 

"I'm sorry for being such a mess."

 

"My poor sparkling. It's okay. They said you could have visitors until your trial has a set date, but I wasn't expecting to see you like this. What have they done to you?"

 

Coolant appeared in my optics once again, and my lower lip trembled, "Bee, I don't know what's going on! I can't remember much of anything that happened in the last 24 voors. All I remember was going on a late night drive to clear my processor, I couldn't sleep. I remember some...bright lights? I don't know, the rest of it is just a big pile of nothing in my memory. Why am I here? Did I do something wrong? But I can't remember!"

 

Bee hugged me tighter and started to rock us. It was only then that I realized as liquid splashed on my helm, he was crying.

 

That's when I started to break down again, "Bee? What's wrong? Don't cry! I'm sorry if I did something wrong! I promise to fix it if it'll make you stop crying."

 

He only sobbed harder, but I didn't understand why. We both cried together, both us complete messes.

 

The door slid open, and one of the guards stepped through, "What is all this commotion in here?"

 

He surveyed our scene of sibling love with cold, uncaring optics and shouted, "Autobot get out of here. Visiting hours are over," Bee didn't move, "And if you don't leave in the next 10 seconds, you're going to be imprisoned here, too."

 

Bee sighed, and I stood up from his lap, and then pulled him up as well. He walked out of the cell, the guard closing it behind him.

 

He shouted as he was forced out the door, "I'll make sure to be here tomorrow!"

 

I yelled at him, "I love you, big brother!"

 

But before he could respond, the door slid shut. I crumpled to the filthy floor once more, all energy drained out completely, leaving a lifeless ragdoll. Pain burned brightly in my optics, and I had no strength to change that.

 

As I glanced at my HUD which indicated that I was well into the levels of critically low energon, I felt my spark stop pulsating as hard as it should. I was slowly forced to offline my optics and every program started to shut off as well.

 

Then everything went dark.

 

 **_______________________________________**  


 

When I finally onlined, I was no longer in the tiny cell, but in the med bay. I slowly onlined my optics, knowing full well how harsh the intensity of the bright white lights could be.

 

I tried to elevate myself but quickly fell back down. I noticed the IV drip in my wiring in my arm that was connected to an energon bag. I only then started to take in my surroundings: Loud thumping noises that I thought was my helmache was actually coming from outside the med bay doors. And then there was Ratchet who was screaming all kinds of obscenities at the door.

 

I groaned, "Ratchet?"

 

He then spun around, concern, disgust, and relief all passed throughout his faceplate, "Ah, you're finally awake. You almost offlined due to starvation, and Primus knows that's not how bots wanted your life to end."

 

I scrunched my optic ridges together, "Wait, what does that mean? Does that mean...bots want me to die a different way? I don't know how to take that? And why would they think that way in the first place? I haven't done anything wrong! I mean first, Smokescreen was really mad at me for some reason. Bee started crying after I asked him if I did something wrong, and now I hear from you that bots practically want to kill me or something?! What is going on? And why can't I remember anything?!"

 

Ratchet stayed quiet, shock etched onto his faceplate, "Do you really not remember anything?"

 

"The only thing I remember last is taking a late night drive through the outskirts of Iacon because I couldn't recharge. I think there were bright lights, it was probably just some laser beams from Iacon. Then I woke up in that disgusting cell. I don't remember anything happening in between, and it feels so weird to just have a random gap in my memory."

 

Ratchet runs a servo over his faceplate and exvents loudly, "I can't fragging believe this. This changes everything. Do you swear that you can't remember because if you're pulling my leg, I will wrap this wrench around your neck."

 

"Yes, I'm serious! Now can you please tell me what happened?"

 

Ratchet zoned out after 'Yes' and started bustling about the room, gathering equipment from hidden compartments. He pulled out and unfolded a large machine, similar to a psychic patch the Decepticons have, but slightly different in key ways. The number one thing being the person who initiates the patch can be the one to pull them out.

 

"Ratchet, what's going on? What are you doing?" He rubs my helm comfortingly, "I can't say much because of this experiment, but you've been charged with a crime and a major one at that. I'm talking one that can justify the death penalty. But, because you are an Autobot, you were at one time, part of my crew when we were on the filthy mudball, and I do care about you, I don't want you to die. Even though you could be really, really, _really_ annoying with your pranks, they were harmless. You're harmless. You can't even destroy scraplets because you say they have lives and families of their own. You're a kind-hearted, pure little femme who I will protect to the very end. I can promise you that."

 

Throughout his speech, he took out the IV in my arm, he set up the patch and started it up. My spark practically melted at those words and coolant slipped from the corner of my eyes.

 

"Oh man, I have cried way too many times today. Thank you for everything, Ratchet. Even if I don't understand the full situation, at least I know for sure that you have my back."

 

He smiled kindly, one of the rare smiles he only flashes Optimus, "Alright, now I'm going to take a look at your memories to see if you're telling the truth. That you really can't remember."

 

I nodded, "Of course, Doc."

 

He rolled his optics at the nickname and plugged the thick cord into the port on the back of my helm, and then he plugged the other one in the back of his own helm.

 

Suddenly, everything went dark, but then I'm driving down a dirt road, a small way-a-ways from the glorious city of Iacon. I hummed along to a random song on the radio, nothing as good as human music, but it was alright.

 

Not paying attention to my surroundings, I didn't notice the car coming straight at me, bright headlights blinding my vision. I swerved right into a ditch and transformed mid-crash. I smashed my helm into a rock; glass and metal entering through the wiring casing in my head, scrambling my processor. My optics were only half working, causing everything to be completely blurry.

 

A deep reddish, blackish, purplish blob came into a view, a sinister chuckle emitting from the voice box, "Hello there, sweetspark. You may not remember me, but I sure as Pit remember you. The second you were born, you ruined my life, so now I'm here to ruin yours!" he finished with an evil cackle.

 

The memory faded away, and I could hear Ratchet faintly whisper, "Oh, Primus. This is not good at all."

 

It was dark for a long time before my most recent memories, waking up in the cell, appeared. That's when everything went dark again until I onlined my optics, and Ratchet was watching me with wary optics, the cord still in his hand. He brought out some type of recording device from the back of his helm and opened his subspace compartment, putting the small chip inside. He closed his chest plates and neatly put away his equipment.

 

He offlined his optics, exventing deeply. He then suddenly onlined them again, a weird grin plastered on his face.

 

He shouted, "You're innocent!"

 

I exvented loudly and cried again from relief while whining, "Ratcheeet! You can't do that to meeee!"

 

He snorted in amusement, "Now the hard part is trying to convince everybot. Sounds like Bee's already on your side, and of course, I am. If we can just find somebot who is apart of the High Guard who can protect you at all times, I would feel highly relieved. Bee and I'll ask around, but in the meantime, I'm not letting you rot in that cell. From now on, you can live with me, and you're going to help me in this medbay. Got it?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Since you seem to be looking better, here's your first task," he picked up a bucket full of energon soaked rags, "Go put this in the washing machine, and then come back when you're done."

 

I nodded and hopped off the metal bed feeling better than before. I grabbed the bucket and strode to the hidden hallway towards the laundry room. As I just stepped through the threshold into the hallway, I heard the medbay doors slide open.

 

A familiar voice asked, "Where is she, Ratchet? The mob outside isn't dispersing, and the guards won't be able to hold them off for long."

 

"Smokescreen, she is innocent. I have proof of it, and until I can show everyone the video, I need you to have a little faith and trust her."

 

"Trust her?!" he shrieked, "I trusted her before and look what she's done. Look where that got me! Everybot ridicules me, and I'm now an outcast for defending her. I feel like I don't belong here anymore, and it's all because of her. We all knew that code inside her would eventually have corrupted her one day, so I guess she finally snapped, she turned evil. But, even though knowing all of that, I still trusted her and became friends. But then she..." a long pause and soft crying, "How could she, Ratchet? We raised her right, so what went wrong? And now I look like a fool, but...I don't know what to do. I hate her, but I love her. She's my best friend, and I don't know what I would do without her. I don't want her to die!"

 

I dropped the bucket I was holding with a loud clatter and  ran out into the main room where Smokescreen stood, coolant streaming down his faceplate, "Flame!"

 

I embraced him tightly and cried again for the millionth time, "Smokescreen, please don't hate me! I don't know what I did, but I promise to fix it! I love you so much, Smokescreen. You're my best friend, and I need you. So, if you can find some part of you that doesn't hate me, please be my friend again!"

 

Smokescreen started sobbing and hugged me tightly, "Flame, you're practically my other half! I'm sorry for being so mad at you! I should've tried to understand you! It was my fault for not trusting you, and for that, I'm really, really sorry. And I'm sorry I hurt you, so can we please still be friends?"

 

I kissed his helm, "'Til death do us part."

 

We cried some more when a loud groan broke us out of our loving trance. The three of us rushed into the hidden hallway where the groans were originating from, and Ratchet opened a door revealing 2 unrecognizable, battered, energon-stained mechs.

 

I choked on the horrid stench of caked-on energon and upchucked everything in my tank that was administered in the IV in a nearby waste receptacle.

 

The taller, longer mech grunted, "It hurts..."

 

Ratchet grabbed a sedative from a nearby shelf, "The pain will soon go away, Magnus. I promise."

 

"Magnus?" I yelled in surprise.

 

The other mech soon onlined and groaned in agony, "Ratchet...sedative..."

 

I grabbed another sedative from the same shelf and handed it to Ratchet who finished giving the first to Ultra Magnus. He took the second and quickly administered it to the other mech.

 

"Optimus, you're going to heal up soon, old friend. I will not let you die, I can promise you that."

 

My entire frame froze as I realized the beaten mech in front of me was, in fact, our Autobot leader and sole inspiration for the majority of the Cybertronian populace, Optimus Prime. I gasped but instantly regretted it as every foul stench entered my mouth to where I could actually taste the wretched energon that was slowly oozing out of their broken bodies. I dry heaved for what felt like solar cycles. Smokescreen patted my backstruts, making sure I was okay. Ratchet shooed us out with his hands, and I gladly followed instructions.

 

I gulped down clean air and asked in absolute horror, "What _happened_ to them?"

 

Smokescreen took a hold of my hands, "That's why everyone wants you dead, and why I was so mad."

 

I shook my helm quickly and coolant appeared in the corners of my optics, "Nononono, this cannot be happening right now."

 

"You did this, Flame."  


**Author's Note:**

> I know some of the characters are a little off, but I want you to know, it's all for the sake of the plot, I promise. Things will work out! Anyways I hope you enjoyed reading, and if you want to show a little love, please do so in the comments because y'all make my day so much better. Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful day!


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